


The Ocean Breathes Salty

by konacher7258



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Belly Kink, Body Worship, Eating, Fluff, Hair Washing, Insecure Dean, Insecurity, M/M, Schmoop, Weight Gain, fat!Dean, obesity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konacher7258/pseuds/konacher7258
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam takes a self-conscious Dean on his first trip to the beach</p><p>(work includes header image)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ocean Breathes Salty

 

1.  
Dean is sweating before they’ve even left the parking lot. “It’s too hot, Sam,” he complains. “You know I’m no good in the heat anymore.”

“You’ll be fine once you get in the water,” Sam assures him. He pulls out an umbrella and a green duffle bag overflowing with beach paraphernalia and snacks. He closes the car door with his knee.

“I’m too fat for this,” Dean grouses, picking at the white t-shirt already clinging to his sweaty skin.

“Come on, Dean, you’re gonna love it. You always wanted to go to the beach when we were kids.” _When you were about three hundred pounds lighter_ , Sam thinks. He hopes that’s not why Dean’s dragging his flip-flop-clad feet.

“Buy me ice cream,” Dean wagers.

“Deal.”

2.  
Dean is just starting to feel out of breath when they find the perfect spot to lay out their blanket. Sam pushes the beach umbrella into the sand and Dean wastes no time collapsing under its shade. He looks around to see if he’s garnered any attention, but no one’s looking so he relaxes a little and kicks off his flip-flops. Beside him Sam is digging for something in the duffle bag. Unsurprisingly he’s already shirtless, happily displaying tanned skin and sculpted muscles.

“Okay,” Sam says, finally pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. “Let’s get you greased up, big boy. Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Dean falters. “I don’t think so, Sam. I’m just gonna leave it on so I don’t get burned.”

“That’s what the sunscreen is for,” Sam explains sunnily. He points to the number on the bottle. “See? I got SPF 50 so all that sensitive skin will be protected.”

“Okay,” Dean reluctantly agrees, sweeping his eyes quickly over the beach for anyone who might be looking.

Sam smiles and begins peeling the damp t-shirt over Dean’s belly, allowing his gut to flop out onto his thighs. Dean raises his fat arms and lets Sam pull the shirt over his head. He’s sad to see it go into the duffle bag but he has to admit it does feel nice when a breeze ghosts over his sweat-slick skin. Sam begins squirting sunscreen into his hand and Dean obediently leans back, his palms splayed on the blanket behind him, spreading his legs so Sam can kneel between them.

The initial plop of a sunscreen-slathered hand on his belly is startlingly cold, but Dean relaxes into it as Sam begins to rub his hands in circles over his flesh. Sam smears thick white streaks over the swell of his belly, the plane of his chest, and around his heavy love handles. Then he runs his hands over every inch in between, smoothing over soft flesh and massaging Dean’s skin until he’s coated in a light sheen of grease. He does Dean’s arms next, running white palms down the flabby backs of his arms and over his forearms until he reaches Dean’s pudgy hands.

Dean begins to twist and turn so Sam can reach all of him with his greasy hands. Sam even takes each fleshy breast between his palms and rubs it over, watching Dean’s face for signs of embarrassment before playfully tweaking a nipple. Dean yelps but encouragingly does not scold him. Then Sam crawls behind him and begins to slather sunscreen over his back and shoulders, around his neck, and over the rolls along his sides. Dean happily leans forward as Sam works, both of them relishing the slide of skin on skin. “Almost done,” Sam says, repositioning himself in front of Dean. “I just want to make sure you’re all covered.”

“I think you got everything,” Dean begins, looking over his enormous body. He’s craning to inspect his back when he feels Sam’s hands slip under the overhang of his gut, disappearing into the deep roll. Long fingers run along the hidden crease, soothing the sweaty skin there, before sliding out along his sides. Then Sam’s hands go to the dough around his navel, kneading the fat a few inches below it before sliding his fingers into the dimple of flesh. He rubs further up towards the ball of Dean’s belly, not even bothering with the ruse of applying sunscreen, then strays lovingly down to his underbelly again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sam informs him matter-of-factly.

“The sunscreen was a good idea,” Dean answers.

Sam smiles and then straightens up on his knees. “Let me get your face and then we can go.”

Dean nods and leans forward slightly—enough that his belly sags onto the blanket between his thighs— so Sam can reach his face. Fingertips swipe gently over his plump cheeks and fleshy double chin, then across his forehead and temples. Another tiny squirt from the bottle and Sam rubs sunscreen onto his nose. Dean thinks he’s finished but then Sam reaches forward again to delicately rub over the shells of Dean’s ears. The feeling of Sam carefully thumbing over his ears makes him grin. Sam wouldn’t bother with this detail for anyone else but him.

His brother leans in for a kiss and Dean tips his head up to meet him—a brief ‘I love you’ that tastes like sweat and smells like sunscreen.

Sam tucks the half-empty bottle back into the duffle bag and then helps Dean up, supporting him as he struggles to his feet.

Dean begins to frown, feeling his naked belly jiggle and bounce, but he doesn’t have time to be self-conscious before Sam takes his hand and starts to drag him towards the water. He goes willingly, concentrating more on keeping his feet than the wobble of his flesh as he’s pulled into the spray.

At first the only thing that registers is the cold, cold water crashing against his shins and the slippery sand that swirls around his feet. He’s vaguely aware of the way the air has changed—cool and clean now instead of thick and hot. Sam pulls him forward until he’s knee-deep in the water, then squeezes his hand tightly as a wave rushes past them. Dean staggers back with the force of the water but keeps his footing, grinning and allowing Sam to drop his hand. He reaches down to let a wave wash over his wrists, then experimentally flicks some water up at Sam.

Sam feigns indignance and lunges at Dean, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back so that he slips on the slimy sand and falls into the water. Dean feels a stab of panic as he goes under but a second later his head pops back up and he realizes he’s not sinking. The water bears him up so that he has no trouble staying afloat. He looks around for Sam and finds him a few feet away, grinning mischievously.

Dean kicks his legs out and swims after him but Sam is quicker, disappearing below the surface as he darts through the water. He pops back up a few feet away and then lets Dean catch him, turning his brother’s tackle into a hug as he wraps his arms around his back. Sam holds him for a minute, laughing against his neck, then pushes him off so Dean can get his feet under him.

Standing, the water comes more or less to their chests. They’re well past the crowds of families clustering along the shoreline. The waves are stronger now, tugging at Dean insistently but not yet threatening to carry him away. The breeze is stronger too, crisp enough that he feels cool even under the August sun. He savors the sense of peacefulness and quiet that has settled around them despite the constant churning of the water. With his attention so focused on the sensation of the sea flowing around him, it takes a while for him to notice Sam watching. The indulgent look he’s giving him makes Dean fluster, but he’s only embarrassed for a second before he feels Sam’s hands find his hips under the water. They pull Dean closer and snake around his back as Sam tips his head down and catches Dean in a deep kiss. Dean opens his mouth, groaning into the kiss as Sam kneads the flesh along his sides. Sam’s hands slide back around until his palms are spread on the curve of Dean’s belly, cupping the soft flesh with fingers pressing gently on either side of his belly button.

When Sam breaks the kiss, the intensity of the arousal in his eyes is momentarily confusing until Dean follows his gaze down. Then he sees the buoyant effect that the saltwater has on his flesh. His belly—so massive that Dean usually carries it around on his thighs—is now a nearly weightless orb of flesh, floating slightly and yielding easily to the movement of the water. Instead of hanging heavy and pendulous between his knees, his gut rises up just begging to be squished and squeezed. Sam stares down at it wondrously as he kneads, pokes, and gently bounces.

Eventually Dean can’t stop himself from sliding his own hands downward, investigating what Sam is so clearly enjoying. It occurs to him that he’s never really investigated his own body, though there is plenty of flesh to explore. Even as he’s expanded and his shape has changed, he’s allowed his new rolls and crevices to remain unfamiliar to him. He just doesn’t get the appeal, taking Sam’s word for it that at least Sam sees something in it. Now he can feel how soft and smooth his skin is. He can appreciate the rippling quality of his flesh that he knows Sam loves. Sam takes his hands and guides them around his middle, wordlessly revealing a new way to think of a body that Dean has always considered cumbersome and conspicuous. His fingers prod around his belly button and his love handles, then the swell of his gut. He knows that those are some of Sam’s favorite parts of his body, and now he thinks he’s beginning to understand why. He feels a pang of regret that they didn’t try something like this sooner but he pushes it away just as quickly. The timing doesn’t matter so much as the fact that he’s finally daring to actually appreciate the hulking amount of weight he’s gained. “God, I’m so fat,” he exclaims, not with self-deprecation or mere acceptance, but with _admiration_.

“I know,” Sam laughs, draping himself over Dean and tucking his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. He wraps his arms as far around Dean’s waist as they’ll go and holds on tight. “I fucking love it.”

3.  
Sam buys Dean the largest ice cream cone he can get and leaves his worn-out brother on the beach to eat it while he continues to swim in the water.

Dean watches him as he laps at his ice cream, not minding the occasional drip that splatters over his chest or the shelf of his stomach. He’s hungry after his frolic in the ocean, and he could do with a proper meal, but the ice cream will do until Sam comes back. He licks deep into the waffle cone and then lets out a yawn, suddenly feeling sleepy from the hot air.

“How are you doing?” he hears Sam call, and he opens his eyes to see Sam jogging towards their blanket. “Are you getting hot?”

Dean sits up, though he doesn’t remember laying down, and blinks at him. “I’m kind of sticky,” he answers after a moment. “My ice cream melted.”

“Thought you’d eat it faster than that,” Sam teases, throwing himself down beside Dean on the blanket. He pushes his wet hair off his forehead and crosses his ankles. “Did you have fun today?” he asks.

Dean rolls his eyes and shoots Sam a look. “Oh yeah, Sammy, it was a dream date. When are you makin’ an honest lady out of me?”

“Alright,” Sam huffs. He shrugs and says, “I just didn’t want you to think you couldn’t do it. Go to the beach, I mean. Swim in the ocean.”

“Oh, god,” Dean mutters. “Well I know better now, don’t I?”

“Yep,” Sam agrees, serenely looking out at the water.

Dean looks at him for a second, then casts his glance out over the ocean. A salty breeze catches his hair and tickles across his still-naked belly. He glances back at Sam. “Thanks, man.”


	2. Won't You Carry It In (Epilogue)

“You smell like the beach,” Sam grins when they get home.

“Well I can’t wait to get the beach off of me,” Dean grouses. “This shirt’s stickin’ to me.” He shuffles into their bedroom and begins stripping off his t-shirt and swim trunks.

“You’re still covered in ice cream,” Sam explains chidingly. “Let me give you a bath.”

“Nuh uh, Sam. I’ve had enough of water for today.”

“Let me wash you,” Sam presses. “You probably have sand everywhere. I want to make sure you’re clean.”

“Neat freak,” Dean groans, but he abandons his clothes on the floor and lumbers naked towards the bathroom.

Sam dutifully scoops up the clothes and tucks them into the hamper before following after Dean.

His brother is already seated in the shower chair in the center of their enormous shower. Dean’s not quite big enough to really need it but Sam knows how much Dean loves long showers so it doesn’t hurt. The water is on and Dean is letting it run over his fingers as he waits for it to warm. 

Sam shucks his clothes and steps into the shower, taking the detachable shower head down and checking the temperature. He begins to rinse the water over Dean, thoroughly wetting his skin. “You look a little bit more tan,” he says conversationally.

Dean looks down at himself but the color looks the same to him. He can’t imagine getting a tan with all the sunscreen he was wearing. He shrugs and tilts his head back so Sam can get his hair wet.

Once Dean’s been rinsed off, Sam returns the shower head to the wall and stands under it as he lathers up a washcloth. “Lift up your belly,” he says as he turns back to his brother. “Let me get under there first.”

Dean obeys, hoisting his apron of belly fat so Sam can clean away the grit of sand and salt that has collected in the crease. Sam thoroughly washes between each of the rolls on Dean’s sides and back, then under his breasts and in his belly button. “You’re such a pig,” he says affectionately as he catches sight of a few more dribbles of ice cream. He scrubs them away and then trails down to wash around Dean’s groin, a second bulge of hanging fat, and around his thighs. He gently rubs the washcloth over Dean’s cock and balls, making sure no sand remains to cause irritation. He has Dean stand so he can wash the cleft of his ass and down his legs. When Dean is sitting again, Sam gently rubs his thumbs over Dean’s face to clean away the greasy sunscreen, and then tilts Dean’s head back so he can shampoo him. He knows Dean loves having his hair washed so he spends extra time massaging his scalp as he rinses out salt and flecks of ocean sediment.

Finally Dean is clean and Sam shuts off the water, wrapping a big towel around his shoulders before getting a smaller one for himself. “It’s time for lunch, dude,” Dean announces while Sam is fishing out a change of clothes for them both. “I’m starving.”

“Take-out?” Sam volunteers.

“A mountain of it,” Dean confirms. “Swimming in the ocean is hard work.”

Sam comes out of the bedroom and gives Dean a quick kiss. “You have my permission to eat yourself silly.”


End file.
